No One Can Hear You Scream
by The Amazing McCormick
Summary: It's hard to fight when nobody has your back, and, alone in the desert, no one can hear you scream.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, while I was just knocking around in _Garry's Mod_ the other day, I pulled up one certain map (I'm pretty sure it's called _koth_lakeside_final_). I got the idea in my mind to make it an entirely _Team Fortress _based scene. I started with four ragdolls, and the concept just snowballed from there.

These drabbles are based on each separate scene, consisting of anywhere from one to four ragdolls. Each character will be dealt with _once._ While every class will be accounted for, there are seven people on each team. Those missing two from each team are dead, for argument's sake.

Teams are stacked as so:

BLU: Heavy, Sniper, Spy, Medic, Engineer, Demoman, Pyro.

RED: Heavy, Sniper, Spy, Medic, Engineer, Soldier, Scout.

**Chapter 1**

**Characters: **RED Sniper, RED Scout, BLU Demoman, BLU Pyro

**Content: **If you're really looking for it, there's _slight_, possibly one-sided BROMANCE between Sniper and Scout.

* * *

><p>"There ya are."<p>

The Sniper raised his gun as the BLU Demoman entered the RED base. What in hell the Scot was doing in the base, when the Control Point was outside, the Sniper didn't know or care. Close behind, the BLU Pyro sprinted ahead of the Demoman. The usually ever-present flamethrower was, for once, missing from the Pyro's grasp. Instead, the masked maniac was clutching his axe like his life depended on it.

The Demoman stopped by the entryway of the base, looking over his shoulder. He flattened himself against the side, trying to stay out of sight of whoever was following. The Pyro continued a bit further into the base before turning around. They were clearly being pursued, and hoped to catch that pursuer by surprise.

An enthusiastic whoop answered the question as to whom said pursuer may be. Sniper couldn't help but sigh; the Scout's enthusiasm was likely to get him killed. Again.

The soft thud of feet hitting rock signaled Scout's impending arrival, not only to the Sniper, but the BLU Demoman and Pyro down below. The Demoman's hand twitched to his own weapon; Scout wouldn't stand a chance against a round of his explosives. Sniper couldn't let that happen.

He had the Demoman in his sights. Now, all there was left to do was pull the trigger.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm not sure in what order I want to write these. We could either start in RED base, like we did, and just move along with whatever scene would come next, should one just be walking along in the map. This option would help in building the image of the map. Or, you could follow my thought process chronologically, and I could write these in order of creation. I'm leaning towards the second option.

Anyway, this particular chapter was the first scene I made. I'd originally just had Sniper and Demoman, but I decided I wanted a bigger scene. The Pyro and Scout are, honestly, unnecessary, but whatever.

Review!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: No reviews… Oh well.

I'm going chronologically, I've decided.

**Characters: **BLU Spy, RED Heavy

**Content: **Sneaky and malicious Spy.

* * *

><p>Another round of bullets imbedded themselves in the wall, a mere few feet from the Spy. The Heavy was tense, paranoid, and bound to shoot at anything that so much as twitched in his line of vision.<p>

As soon as he was sure he could make a move, the Spy ran to another position, closer to the Heavy. The scenario reminded him of a snake stalking a rabbit. A large, hulking, deadly monster of a rabbit, but his prey, nonetheless.

"Come out, Spy! I know you are here!" The fat man's thick Russian accent quavered, whether it was out of fear or anger, nobody knew.

A brief feeling of empathy flashed through the Spy's mind. He understood the fear. Whatever unholy force that had managed to rip both teams apart had left each of them completely alone. Even if there was just one person by the Heavy's side, no matter whom it would have been, the situation would have become vastly different. But Heavy was alone, and nobody wanted to go up against a cloaked Spy without backup. The situation was not looking in his favor.

A movement off to the side caught the Russian's eye, and he whirled in the direction, gun firing. The Spy stood in another corner, watching the Heavy's reaction with interest. However, it was time to end their pathetic game.

The Heavy heard the Spy approaching and turned, only to have his gun knocked away. For a brief second, the Spy was completely visible. Then, the dreaded butterfly knife came down on the Heavy's chest. The spy yanked the knife out, and the Heavy tottered before toppling over completely and landing face first on the stone beneath him. He struggled to push himself up, bracing both arms against the rough ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Spy's shoes as he walked over, arm raised and ready to deliver the fatal blow.

* * *

><p>AN: I didn't expect this one to be this long. When I say drabbles, I usually mean three hundred words or less. Only slightly longer, but whatever.

These drabbles are the buildup to the scenes on the map. For example, for the first chapter, the scene is the Pyro and Demoman turned towards the Scout, with the Sniper watching from above. The scene for this chapter is the Spy standing over the fallen Heavy with his arm raised. The drabbles will always end with the scene.

Please, someone, review.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Who's next? A loner story, this time. There are two of these, which only deal with one character.

By the way, ONE review, thank you very much.

**Characters: **BLU Heavy

**Content:** Slight mentions of depression, drinking.

* * *

><p>The BLU Heavy had never really been one for heavy drinking. Sure, a few glasses out with friends, a bottle at a party, those were fine. However, the Heavy disapproved of the Demoman's constant drunken stupor. Drinking like that ruined a man.<p>

A slight clinking noise as the first empty bottle rolled over the stones.

Now, however, the Heavy believed he understood what drove people like the Demoman to drink. When all hope was lost, what more could you do?

Somehow, both teams had been propelled into this godforsaken desert without the hopes of respawn. The others didn't know that, but he did. He had seen the Scout and Soldier, watched them take their last rasping breaths, and then waited, hoping that, in a few minutes, they might come back.

They didn't.

The second bottle rolled to join the first, chipping slightly as it hit the edge of a jagged rock.

He had stumbled into the base after nearly an hour of waiting for his lost teammates. The heat was not good for someone of his size, and he found he needed to seek shelter as soon as possible.

A pile of rubble served as an excellent place to sit, so he had settled up against the wall, struggling to regain his breath.

It was during this time that the overwhelming feeling of dread came over him.

The third bottle came to rest in between two stones near the Heavy's feet.

He hoped to survive as long as he could by holing up inside, hiding. It was cowardly, yes, but it seemed the best course of action. His comrades… well, they were probably all dead by now. The teams probably fought to the death, like always, not knowing that this time, there wasn't another chance.

The best he could hope for was that someone else figured out the problem. They'd hide, like he was, until the fighting was over. An empty hope, but it was something that kept him from picking up his gun and turning it on himself.

Besides, he couldn't bring himself to venture into the desert. Not now.

The fourth bottle was nearing its end. That was okay, though. There were plenty more where that came from.

* * *

><p>AN: I don't like this one. Still, I'd put it on the map, so.

This scene is the Heavy, slumped in a corner, with bottles littered at his feet. Honestly, I have no idea where the hell that came from.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I think I'm going to like this one more than the last one. Why?

It deals with the greatest relationship, romantic or otherwise, in this fandom.

**Characters: **BLU Sniper, RED Spy

**Content**: Nothing, really. No slash.

* * *

><p>Quiet. Dead quiet, all around.<p>

At the risk of sounding cliché, the Sniper would say it was _too_ quiet.

He didn't like it.

Usually, on the battlefield, he was surrounded by the constant clamor of the ongoing fight. Usually, he'd be annoyed by the Heavy's triumphant shouts, the Scout's enthusiastic whoops, or the Pyro's incoherent mumbling. He was a professional, and he needed to be able to focus.

Now, however, the complete silence proved to be more of a distraction than the noise. The Sniper sighed. He'd give anything to hear the noise again. At least, when someone's screaming, you know they're alive.

The place was a ghost town. It honestly looked like someone had set up a battle, just to leave before it started. Across at the other base, there was a RED sentry, built, but never used. It wasn't even moving anymore. _Nothing _was moving anymore.

Wait. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, telling him that he was wrong. He tensed, preparing for the unwelcome visitor. "Damn Spook." He muttered under his breath, because that's who it had to be. Nobody could sneak around like the Spy.

The slightest sound of a shoe scuffing the dirt alerted the Sniper as to the location of the Spy. He wasted no time in ramming the butt of his rifle towards the noise. The gun struck something solid, and the Sniper was rewarded with a pained grunt. The Sniper whirled, kukri drawn, to face his opponent. The Spy was hunched over, holding his jaw. Blood dribbled from in between his fingers. His eyes were narrowed, the Sniper the target of their threatening gaze. The Spy's skinny frame shook with each panting, angry breath he took. For the longest time, neither moved. Then, as if rehearsed, they lunged for each other in the same instant.

As soon as the fight started, however, it stopped. The kukri had been knocked from the Sniper's grasp and out of the nest. The Spy's pistol and cigarette case were thrown to the side. Somehow, the Sniper had the butterfly knife now in his possession, and the Spy wouldn't dare attack the man weaponless. The Sniper stood still, turning the knife in his hand, but didn't attack. The Spy straightened up and adjusted his tie. He was tense; the Sniper could strike at any moment. When it seemed that he wasn't going to move, the Spy bent down to retrieve a cigarette from his case.

Bad idea.

The next thing he knew, the Spy was a mere inch away from the blade of his own knife. The Sniper had his neck in a death grip. "Whaddaya think you're doin'?"

"J-just getting a-a cigar-rette," the Spy choked out. The Sniper's grip slackened, but the knife moved closer, assuring the Spy that moving wasn't an option. The tip of the knife pricked his skin.

"Monsieur!" he croaked. The knife pressed harder. "Please! Respawn is not working!"

"Then why'n hell did _you_ attack _me_?" the Sniper grunted.

"It was just part of the job! Surely you understand!"

The Sniper removed the knife. The Spy sighed in relief, rubbing the spot where the knife had dug. However, his relief was short-lived, as he tried to dodge a lunge from the Sniper. The Spy came off with only a scratch, but he couldn't revel on that fact. The Sniper stood in front of him, breathing heavily.

"All part of the job, mate." He lunged.

* * *

><p>AN: I just love the Sniper-Spy dynamic. However, I feel like the ending for this one was a bit rushed...


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I've returned.

Herein is a slightly sadder story.

**Characters: **RED Medic, RED Engineer

**Content: **Death

* * *

><p>His blood pounded in his ears, and his head throbbed. His body, covered in a thin sheet of sweat, was trembling with exhaustion. He'd barely dodged the barrage of grenades from the BLU Demoman, only to be shot at mercilessly by the BLU Engineer's Sentry. He'd barely made it across the platform, and was now huddling in a corner to address the matter at hand. While he'd escaped the immediate danger, his Medigun had not. When faced with the choice of his life or his gun, the gun came up short, and he had used it as a shield against his attackers. The weapon had taken considerable damage, and was now rendered absolutely useless. What's worse, there weren't any materials around by which he could fix the device. Without the Medigun, he was in serious trouble.<p>

Salvation came in the form of a call, a voice rising above the sound of the wind.

"Doc!" The voice croaked. "Doc!"

The Medic's face lit up. The Engineer, the RED Engineer, he could help! He could probably fix up the Medigun in no time, and then the Medic could assist his teammates without fear once again.

"Herr Engineer!" the Medic called, standing and moving into view, and leaving the Medigun on the ground. "I am here! I require…" The sentence died on the Medic's lips as he saw the Engineer. He was trying to walk, but could only accomplish a half-walk, half-crawl towards the Medic's location His face was contorted with sheer agony. His left side looked like it had taken a hit from a Demoman's grenade. He was bleeding profusely.

"Doc…" The Engineer said again, momentary relief washing over his features. However, with his next movement, the pain was back, and he gasped. "Doc, help…"

The Medic sprang into action, immediately reaching for his Medigun. It wasn't until his hand met the instrument that he paused, remembering his dilemma. His face paled and terror seized him. If the Medigun was out of commission… there was no way to help the Engineer.

And respawn wasn't working.

The Engineer saw the Medic tense up. "Doc?" he coughed. "What is it?" The Medic turned to his teammate, sorrow in his eyes.

"Entschuldigung. I'm sorry." He said. He couldn't bring himself to look the Engineer straight in the eyes, even if the latter's were covered by goggles. "The Medigun… it is broken. I cannot…" his voice broke. "I'm sorry."

The Engineer's heart dropped, but he managed to put on a brave face.

"Hey, don't worry, doc. Respawn'll take care of this." For some reason, the Medic's immediate reaction to what the Engineer said made the Engineer doubt his own words. However, the Medic soon forced a smile.

"Of course, Herr Engineer."

The Engineer's world started dimming. Everything faded but the Medic, whose expression was one of grief. Even that was fading.

"Don't worry, doc." The Engineer whispered. "See you in a minute."

* * *

><p>AN: Sad.

Hey, if you are interested, follow my tumblr. Same username.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I am negligent. And busy. But mostly negligent.

So sorry for leaving you guys hanging.

Anyway, off of the top of my head, I'd say that after this, there's only one more chapter. That's _probably_ right.

I didn't mean for this scene to turn out so similar to the previous one. I doubt this chapter will be similar, though.

**Character: **BLU Engineer

**Content:** Death, minor gore

* * *

><p>The sun beat down with such unbearable intensity, that all the BLU Engineer could think was; <em>This must be hell.<em>

He was lying sort of on his side on the sand. He wasn't trying to move at all; been there, done that, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. He'd taken quite the beating. A long gash through his side bled profusely, and the mixture of sand and blood that was starting to clot wasn't comfortable. And, he was guessing, not sanitary. A bullet had found a home in his shoulder, which led to another bloody, sandy wound. His pantleg had been ripped up by a particularly nasty fall. The skin on the leg was torn, and small rocks imbedded themselves into his flesh. His usually so sturdy hardhat had cracked; a shard had lodged itself in the skin above his ear. The head trauma in general was definitely doing a number on his vision, since he realized that he could no longer see clearly through one eye. Either he was going blind, or there was blood filling his goggles. Either was probable.

The sun glinted and glowed off of the sand, turning his surroundings into a constant bright, burning nothing. He was burning; he was sure that there must be some sort of fire alight on his skin. Though his consciousness was slipping away, he could still feel everything as if he were fully awake and aware. If this wasn't hell, then it was some sort of awful repercussion for all of the awful things he had done.

Either was probable.

* * *

><p>AN: Screw this chapter. I don't like it. Still, it turned out better than I thought it would.

One more…


End file.
